


12 Days of KakaSaku

by moderndayportia



Category: Naruto
Genre: Christmas, Drabble Collection, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-17
Updated: 2018-12-17
Packaged: 2019-09-20 20:07:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,988
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17029173
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moderndayportia/pseuds/moderndayportia
Summary: A collection of Christmas stories and oneshots exploring the relationship between Kakashi and Sakura. Based on the song.





	1. The Pear Tree

_Rating: Mature_

A bleary-eyed Sakura yanked her door open with simmering frustration.

“What do you—” she snarled sleepily, but then stopped, surprised. Yamato stood sheepishly in her doorway, looking anywhere but at her. And behind him, with both hands planted firmly on his kohai’s shoulders, was Kakashi.

“Merry Christmas, Sakura,” he sing-songed in a cheery voice.

Sakura looked from a tense Yamato to a beaming Kakashi and then back to a tense Yamato. The men stood in the cold night air, breath steaming and painted yellow by the illumination of the street light.

“What do you want?” she grumbled, reaching up to wipe smeared mascara from under her eyes and smooth down her messy nest of hair. Sakura had torn her scrubs off, grabbed a night shirt off the floor, and collapsed into a dense, dreamless sleep as soon as she got home from a grueling 48-hours shift in the hospital. She had treated everything from too-drunk merry-makers to a case of frost bite and more than a few unfortunate suffers of influenza. This time of year was always like this.

Screw Christmas.

Fuck Christmas Eve.

All she wanted to do was sleep.

“Uh…” Yamato tried weakly as he stared at her doorjamb.

Kakashi gave him a quick shove and Sakura ducked back out of their way as both men came (unwelcomed) inside. “Over there Tenzou. Northeast corner.”

Sakura huffed and crossed her arms. “What the hell are you two doing?”

Kakashi relinquished his hold of the skittish Yamato and pivoted to sweep Sakura up into his embrace. He leaned in and planted a firm kiss against her lips, and she could feel the cold lingering on his body through the thin material of her night shirt. “I brought you a Christmas tree,” Kakashi crooned happily as he drew her hips close.

Across her living room, Yamato blushed and shuffled, uncomfortable with their intimacy. They hadn’t been publicly dating long, and he hadn’t yet reconciled the idea that Kakashi and Sakura were together.

“You didn’t bring me a Christmas tree. You brought me a Yamato,” Sakura groused as Kakashi leaned in to rub his cold, masked nose against the warm crook of her neck.

“Yes, but he can make trees,” he hummed then inhaled deeply. Sakura was sure she didn’t smell all that great, but Kakashi didn’t seem to notice.

Sakura eyed Yamato skeptically over Kakashi’s shoulder.

“Why do you let him do this to you?” she asked, ignoring the man fondling her.

Yamato scratched the back of his head and laughed nervously. “He kind of ambushed me.” A little sway in Yamato’s posture and the burning smell of anise and rum told Sakura that Yamato was probably a little less than sober.

“Right,” Sakura sighed as Kakashi continued to get cozy with her neck. “I don’t want a tree, but if you’re going to do it, then over there’s fine,” she instructed as she reached around behind her to pull Kakashi’s hands up off of her ass.

It had only been 48 hours since they’d seen each other, but Kakashi was acting like he had to make up for every minute of missed affection. Sakura suspected that Yamato wasn’t the only one who had been making merry on Christmas punch before the two idiots decided to grace her doorstep.

“Um….” Yamato tried again as a deep and demanding yawn rolled from Sakura’s chest. “I can’t make fir trees.”

“What?” she asked, shaking her sleepy head as Kakashi’s distracting hands drifted lower and lower.

“My mokuton only makes deciduous trees,” Yamato explained awkwardly.

“Are you kidding me?” Sakura exclaimed and pushed Kakashi back. “Why’d you drag him here to make a Christmas tree if he can’t even make Christmas trees?” she demanded with annoyance. “And I don’t even want a tree!” she reminded herself and turned to storm back to the bedroom, more than done with the holiday antics.

Kakashi grabbed her wrist and yanked her back, seamlessly pivoting so his back was totally to Yamato. He stood tall over her as he reached up and slowly pulled his mask down, his voice deep as he commanded, “Just make something pretty for her.” Sakura’s breath caught in her throat at the intensity of his gaze. “And then leave,” he finished, voice husky. He drew her in tight by the wrist and the other hand laced into her mess of hair to tilt her head back.

“Kakashi—” she whispered hesitantly, very aware of what his bare face signaled. And their audience.

“You’re wearing my shirt,” he said simply, his fingers rubbing over her scalp and causing tingles to shoot down her neck.

“You left it here,” she defended weakly as his other hand ran up her side, dragging over the fabric of his jounin-issue long-sleeved shirt.

“You better give it back,” he purred and twisted his fingers into the fabric, making it ride higher up her naked thighs.

Sakura had tunnel vision, her focus completely wrapped up in the gorgeous man caressing and holding her, but somewhere in the back of her mind she registered the click of her front door closing.

“But I want it,” she breathed.

Kakashi leaned close, his lips a whisper away from hers.

“Then I’ll give it to you,” her rumbled. “My Christmas present.”

“I don’t like Christm—”

Kakashi didn’t let her finish. He lips captured hers in a deep, longing kiss that had made her back arch and her knees buckle.

All thoughts of going back to bed were completely forgotten as Kakashi laid her down on the carpet and pulled his shirt off of her, revealing the soft curved places he loved to explore. He made love to her gently and slowly, until she came. And then once again.

Afterwards, they moved to the couch and they laid naked, entwined, and satisfied, her cheek pressed against his chest, and her moist thigh tight against his. Sakura listened to the content beat of his heart as he ran long fingers up and down her spine.

“Poor Yamato,” she giggled suddenly. They both looked at the corner where a tree was blooming magically out of her once pristine wood flooring. It was not a Christmas tree, but it was beautiful. There were no ornaments, but full, yellow pears hung heavy on the bows. It was strange, but it was also somehow fitting.

“Merry Christmas,” Kakashi said sleepily.

“I don’t like Christm—” Sakura whispered, but before she could finish, he was pulling her chin up and pressing a soft kiss to her lips.

“But you like me,” he said.

“And you like me,” she hummed and cuddled into his chest.

After a good night’s sleep, they’d have some fresh fruit for breakfast. And then she’d make him cut down the stupid tree.


	2. Dove

Dove followed the red trail through the pristine snow. No footsteps directed her path—he was obviously using chakra to cushion his feet. Dove didn’t bother as her sandals crunched through the icy drifts, following drops of his blood like a trail of bread crumbs.

Quick, panicked breaths steamed out the sides of her mask, which was pure white and unadorned. She hadn’t earned her marks yet.

The path led her a mile through a forest of old trees, their naked limbs reaching for the winter-bleached sky, barren and stark. The trail was growing thicker and more pronounced—bright pebbles of red showing her the way.

She came upon a clearing and immediately knew something had happened here. The snow was disturbed and chaotic: two pairs of tracks from feet digging in for traction, a bloody kunai, more blood smeared here and there. The smell of ozone lingered thick in the bitter chill of the air.

She found a body. A dead enemy. Female, mid-20s. A gaping hole through her chest.

As she suspected, he had been injured and pursued. And then a battle, swift and deadly, had happened. Dove ignored the quickly cooling body of the missing nin and spun in a circle.

There.

Bloody footsteps led away in uneven intervals. Dove started to run, her feet stirring up the trail and making it even more distinct. She prayed it was her teammates and not her enemies that found it.

She saw him then.

500 meters away, body hunched against a tree, his chin against his chest. A puddle of warm blood was melting through the snow.

“Shit,” she hissed and rushed to fall to her knees in front of him. Her hands glowed emerald bright as they pressed over the large gash bisecting his torso.

Hound stirred and groaned, his head rocking left to right as he pulled himself backwards from unconsciousness.

“I got you, Hound,” Dove whispered and pressed harder to staunch the hot flow of blood and viscera over her palms.

A little grunt of pain trembled through his body and he lifted his head to blearily watch her face. “Were you followed?” he asked, his voice gritty and weak. A wet cough rattled from beneath his distinct ANBU mask.

“No, Sir,” she answered quickly, continuing to work with intense focus. The gash was large. But the blood loss was worse.

“The team?” he questioned.

“Engaging two combatants to the West, Sir.”

He nodded then stayed quiet, letting her concentrate on her work. She focused on stopping the bleeding, rebuilding the tissue around his organs, and indulged in a few bursts of chakra targeted at his endocrine gland to release endorphins and stymie his intense pain.

His breaths were shallow and rushed, his pulse underneath her hands thready.

“Calm down,” she whispered.

“Un,” he answered, reaching a shaking hand up to pull the Hound mask from his face and drop it to the ground.

Dove bit her lip and peeked up at him. She knew it was against protocol, and didn’t want to think about what it signaled that he was breaking it.

Under one mask was another. He shakily reached for it too.

“What are you doing?” she hissed with anxiety. “Stop!”

He gave a stiff, breathless laugh as he hooked a finger under the cloth mask and pulled it down. The side of his mouth was smeared with blood, and he rubbed the back of his hand across his lips before letting it weakly fall to his side.

A sharp breeze tumbled through the clearing, stirring through his hair and whipping up snow into the air around them.

Dove was stunned. The chakra continued to pour from her hands as she knit together his rent flesh with automated practice, but her eyes were locked on the pale expanse of skin now exposed to the bitter sting of winter cold.

“Why?” she asked fearfully.

A scornful smile pulled at one corner of his bloodied lip and a shuddering breath escaped his mouth. His face was so beautiful but vulnerable. The familiar need to protect him boiled hotter in her gut.

“I’d rather you not see it for the first time on my corpse.”

“Don’t—You can’t say that, Sir. You’re going to be fine.”

He smiled at her softly and the glow of her chakra illuminated two little dips of dimples she had never even imagined. He reached a hand out to brush the porcelain cheek of her mask. His blood smeared across the pure expanse. “If you follow me down this path, you will eventually.” His fingers curled under the rim of her mask and he tugged it off her face. “Sakura….”

He dropped her mask into the snow besides his and wilted backwards, leaning fully into the tree. A pained cough choked from his throat again, and she could see his teeth grit together, two strangely sharp canines bared. “Or I’ll be seeing your corpse,” he labored out.

A few moments of barren silence fell between them. Sakura stimulated his marrow to encourage blood production as the pale skin sealed closed underneath her fingertips. She tried hard to keep her emotions under control, but when she looked up, her eyes were cloudy with tears. “I don’t want that,” she whispered, pulling back her shaking hands from the now closed wound.

A rattling chuckle escaped from Kakashi’s throat. “Me neither.”

She nodded. “Okay.”

“Okay,” he sighed heavily. “Say it.”

She understood. So much of what happened between them went unsaid, but he needed to hear this.

“Please,” he implored, voice weighted with vulnerability.

Sakura looked down at her hands, marred with his blood and turned to wipe them along the clean snow. She turned back towards him and steeled herself, before locking her gaze with his. “I resign,” she said, clearly, simply.

The tension in his shoulders released. “Accepted,” he nodded.

The invisible wall that had been taking up the space between them for the months since she joined the program seemed to fracture and crumble away. Of course he hadn’t wanted her to join. He’d gone back in only to keep an eye on her. And then she’d been placed on his team and the burden of her subordination had dragged on them both.

She smiled at him weakly as he studied her with unsaid hope.

Sakura pulled a roll of bandages from her hip pouch. “Can you sit forward,” she asked, retreating back behind a wall of professionalism.

He grunted as she helped him lean into her. She tugged up his destroyed shirt, and wound a long roll of bandage around his waist.

Where was his cloak? she wondered. He must be freezing.

Kakashi’s head fell to rest against her shoulder as she worked. His downy hair brushed softly against her blushing cheeks.

She finished her work and then whispered “Okay,” but Kakashi didn’t move.

Instead his arms wrapped around her from behind, puling her more tightly against him into an ecompassing embrace.

“Are you cold?” Sakura asked hesitantly as her body tensed.

“No,” he answered simply, his lips coming to brush against the shell of his ear. He simply sat there and held her close, as if waiting.

Sakura’s eyes were wide with the possibilities. She stared at the bark of the tree behind him and tried to decide what to do.

“Kakashi—” she started, unsure.

“Sakura,” he said, his voice deep and comforting. His warm presence rolled around her.

This was right. This was so right.

Her hands slowly came up to wrap around his back, and Kakashi sighed and relaxed against her.

They held each other for a long time. Though surrounded by the cold and the blood and the danger, they both relished in the warmth and gentleness of the frozen moment.

That’s how their teammates found them a while later.

As they regrouped and headed home toward Konoha, toward new beginnings, Kakashi leaned against Sakura’s shoulder, letting her take some of his burden. A soft snow began to fall, covering up all of the blood he left behind.


	3. Day 3: Hens

_Rating: Explicit_

  
Sakura was thirsty.

The bar was filled with holiday merry-makers and couples huddled together in its glowing warmth after ducking in off the cold street. This time of year, people always seemed to find someone to cuddle with in the glow of twinkling Christmas lights, but Sakura was acutely aware of how alone she was. The holidays weren’t quite the holidays without someone to share them with.

The girls beside her giggled and whispered conspiratorially about a group of guys in business suits in the corner, but Sakura’s focus kept drifting down to the other end of the long, mahogany bar where the bartender cut a lonely figure. He was tall, lean and handsome, with a young face and a head of shocking gray hair. A long, mysterious scar bisected his left eye and cheek. She wanted to know his story. He was slouching against the end of the bar, ignoring all of the customers and reading a book.

There was something about him that kept drawing her eyes like a magnet.

She looked down into her half-consumed drink and made a decision. “I’ll be right back,” she told her tipsy friends, before walking down the bar and scooting into a chair in front of him.

He didn’t even glance up, either totally immersed in his story or purposely ignoring her too.

After a moment of building up her courage, she asked “What are you reading?”

The bartender looked up from his book, and his lazy eyes traced over her face before they fell to her glass.

“Need a refill?”

His voice was perfect, deep and masculine.

Sakura looked down at the sweet pink concoction Ino had insisted they order and frowned. “Sure, okay. But not this again.”

The bartender chuckled and set his book down on the counter, still open to the page he had been reading so he could easily resume.

“You didn’t like it?” he teased, as he took the half-full glass and dumped it into the sink.

“Oh, no. It was good. Just a little….” Sakura faltered, not wanting to offend the handsome stranger.

“Like licking an Easter bunny’s asshole?” he finished for her, a devilish smirk spreading across his lips.

Sakura thought about it for a minute and then smiled widely at him. “Exactly.”

“Yeah, it’s not my favorite on the menu,” he admitted, setting her glass on a wrack to be cleaned. “So, what’s your poison?” he asked, planting his hands flat and wide on the bar in front of her.

She was taken off guard by his sudden, easy closeness. “Um, I don’t know. What do you like to make?” She suddenly felt very eager to please.

He leaned in to speak lowly to her, as if sharing a secret, “Lots of things.” A shiver ran down Sakura’s spine. “But I think I know what you want,” he said, and stepped back to pluck a Collins glass off of the shelf.  
  
Sakura’s fingers came up to touch her cheeks as he worked, and she could feel the burning blush that he had kindled there. Was he flirting? It sure seemed like it. Did he really know what she wanted? Did she?

He filled a glass with ice and plonked it down onto the bar before tilting several different bottles into it at once. And then he tapped on a silver cup and started shaking it vigorously in front of his shoulder.

Sakura tried not to stare.

“Hen party?” the bartender asked, glancing down the bar at an increasingly drunk and giggly Ino, Hinata and Tenten.

“Yeah,” Sakura answered, looking towards her preoccupied friends. Tomorrow was Ino’s wedding, a Christmas spectacular hosted in the National Gallery of Art, and she had insisted on having her closet girls take her out for drinks. “How’d you know?” she wondered as the handsome bartender poured her drink through a metal sieve into a chilled glass.  
  
“Penis whistle,” he replied simply and Sakura balked. She looked down to see that she was in fact still wearing the dumb penis whistle that Tenten had brought to her flat earlier. She yanked it off and shoved it into her pocket as he chuckled at her embarrassment.

A dash of something and a flourish of an orange rind around the rim of the glass and he was sliding the drink in front of her.

“What is it?”  she asked as she brought the glass to her lips. She was met with the fresh bouquet of herbs and citrus, and she quickly sipped the refreshing concoction. It was delicious.

“I have no idea,” he answered succinctly.

Sakura froze. “What?”

He chuckled again as he picked up a towel to wipe down the counter in front of her. “I just made some quick decisions. You looked like you needed a pick me up.”

Sakura peered down into the glass perched at her lips. “Oh god, is this going to get me wasted?”

The bartender threw his head back and laughed. It was deep and rich.

She raised her eyebrows. “Seriously?” she whined.

“No. There’s no alcohol in it,” he assured, still chuckling to himself.

“Oh.” Sakura took another sip, noticing now that the burn of alcohol was absent. “It’s good,” she told him sincerely.

“Good,” he answered back.

Sakura shifted awkwardly and debated getting up. The bartender leaned confidentially back on the counter and watched her, a towel draped over his shoulder and his arms crossed in front of his chest.

“Well, thanks for the drink,” she said as she shifted to climb down off the chair.

“Cummings,” he said suddenly, and she stilled.

“Uh, what?”

“You asked what I’m reading before. It’s Cummings.”

Sakura took the bait and settled back onto the chair. What did she know about e.e. cummings? American, post-modern, weird words, rule breaker? That sounded right. She quickly searched for an angle, eager to engage him on the topic.

“Really? I’m surprised.”

“Oh?”

“Isn’t he a little dry for Christmas Eve?”

“Dry?”

“Um, un-romantic, I guess?”

“Un-romantic? You only say that because you don’t know him,” the bartender teased.

“Are you a romantic?” Sakura asked, and then immediately regretted it. _Try not to sound so desperate_ , she mentally berated herself.

He took it in stride. “Maybe. Are you?”

Sakura glanced at her friends down the bar. Ino was glowing and happy and showing off her ring again. She supposed love was true, for some people, even if her luck wasn’t so great lately.

“Maybe,” she answered simply.

Her plus one for the wedding, Sasuke, had cancelled last month. In reality, he was more than her plus one. They had been really serious, rven at the stage of moving in together and adopting a dog. But he had chosen his career over her, taking a three-year secondment in Shanghai and breaking things off with her at the last minute before he left in October. He was supposed to be back for Ino’s wedding, but Sakura found herself suddenly with a broken heart and no date.

And a cold, empty bed and no one to give a Christmas present to.

“So it’s not your wedding then?” the bartender asked, interrupting her spiral of self-pity.

“What? Oh no. It’s Ino’s. The blonde.”

The bartender looked pleased. He uncrossed his arms and came forward to lean on the bar in front of her again. “And you haven’t read Cummings?” he asked, tilting his head.

“I don’t remember. Maybe in uni English class. Is he any good?”

The bartender smiled broadly. “He’s the best.”

“The best?” she returned with faux surprise. “How could I not have read him before then if he’s the best?”

The bartender chuckled and reached for the open book. “Well, we can fix that right now.”

He flipped through a couple of pages and nodded before holding the well-worn book out to her. Sakura ran her fingers over the stem of her glass and peeked up at him through her eyelashes. “Would you read it to me?” she asked shyly.

A knowing glimmer twinkled in his eye. “Sure.” He threw the towel down off his shoulder and whistled at someone across the room at the billiards table. The good-looking guy yelled back “Roger” and sauntered behind the other end of the bar, quickly catching the attention of Sakura’s friends as he grabbed a stir straw and stuck it between his teeth.  
  
Sakura’s bartender ducked out from behind the bar and pulled a stool up closer to hers.

Sakura sipped her drink as she tried not to think about how close his knees were to brushing against hers.  
  
He cleared his throat a little. “I like this one” He started with a slow and confident rhythm that belied familiarity, “ _Lady, I will touch you with my mind. Touch you and touch and touch until you give me suddenly a smile, shyly obscene. Lady I will touch you with my mind. Touch you, that is all, lightly and you utterly will become with infinite care_.”

His voice, and not just the words he was reading, sent tingles shooting down Sakura’s spine, and she discreetly rubbed her thighs together under the bar. “Wow,” she breathed, transported.

“Wow indeed,” he answered and closed the book and placed it before him.

“Still think it’s dry?”

“No, I think I’ve been missing out,” she whispered.

“Maybe,” he said simply. “But it’s never too late.”

Sakura sipped her drink and contemplated the implications of that as they lapsed into a comfortable silence. The melody of a bitter-sweet Christmas song played softly in the background. A sudden thought occurred to her, “How’d you know to make it a virgin?”

He shrugged, and didn’t take the opportunity to make a joke like the more immature guys she was used to would have. “Not everyone comes to a bar to drink.”

“What do they come to the bar for then? To read Cummings?”

“Maybe. Or maybe they are looking for something else.” His knee brushed against hers and a heat burnt brightly in his dark eyes.

She glanced at her friends and then back at him. “And if I am?”

He just studied her for a long moment, and then nodded. “I think it’s my break now.”

She hesitated for a moment. “I don’t even know your name.”

“Kakashi,” he said as he took her hand.

“Sakura,” she responded. The feeling of his long, callused fingers wrapping around hers made the decision for her.

He helped her down from the stool and she let herself be led through the bar and towards a hallway by the bathrooms. Her friends may have called out to her, but she neither noticed nor cared, too consumed with anxious excitement.

Was this really happening? Was she really doing this?

She followed him through a door and into an empty kitchen— it was late enough that service had ended for the night—and into a small, dim office at the back. He pulled her inside and shut the door.

“I don’t know what—”

But then his lips were brushing against hers and his hands were on her hips and guiding her back to press against the door.

“I know what you need,” he said, and she nodded and licked her lips.

“Yes.”

He kissed her again and she melted into him. How long had it been since she was kissed? How perfect and strong did he feel pressed up against her?

His hands tangled through her hair and he angled her head so that he could deepen the kiss. His tongue ran along her bottom lip and Sakura moaned and opened to let him in. His tongue delved skillfully over hers teasing and caressing expertly in a way that transported her worries away. He was a great kisser.

Before she wanted him to, he pulled his mouth from hers and pressed his lips against her neck. She was shivering now, and his hands were holding her hips flush with the hard surface of the door behind her or they would have been rolling to get closer to him.

“I’m going to touch you now,” he rumbled against her neck. “Okay, Sakura?”

“Please,” she panted.

He hummed, pleased with her response. “Turn around,” he said, pivoting her quickly by the grip on her hips.

Sakura gasped a little and caught herself by the palms against the door.  
  
Kakashi pressed up against her from behind, and she could feel his pronounced hardness digging into her ass.

His lips and tongue worked over the sensitive expanse of her neck and she arched and pushed back against him. He rumbled a little in approval of her responsiveness, and his hands skimmed over her stomach. He was touching her so gently, and her head was spinning with it.

His hands went in different directions, one stroking over her hips and up toward the deep V-neck of her dress. He tugged it a little to the side and then his warm palm slid in to hold her small, soft breast. At the same time his other hand caressed over the front of her thigh, working his way under her dress. His fingertips brushed over the soft apex of her thighs, and he paused.

“Okay?” he asked. She could feel his hot breath rushing over her ear.

She moaned a breathy yes. And then his long deft fingers slid under her panties and into the hot, slippery heat beneath.

“God, you’re so wet,” he growled.

Sakura cried out and threw her head back as he wasted no time targeting the spot that she was weakest. A few strums of his fingers, and she was already sobbing and gushing over his palm. She had never cum so quickly before, but she was burning still for him.

“More?”

“Please,” she whined weakly.

He pulled the hand out from under her neckline and dragged the tight skirt of her dress up over her hips. “Stick out your ass,” he directed, and Sakura did. Her forehead fell to rest between her hands on the office door as long fingers pushed past the legs of her panties and entered her pussy from behind.

“Fuck,” she hissed.

He worked her clit and fucked her on his long fingers until she was shivering and tense. Kakashi added another finger and she moaned at the stretch.

“Like that?” he murmured in her ear, the warm, hard expanse of him pressing deliciously up against her back.

“God yes.”

“You’re so hot,” he said before his teeth bit gently down on the bend of her neck.

“Oh god,” she panted.

“Say my name,” he growled, crooking his fingers and targeting a spot that made her pant and drip. “If you remember it.”

“What?” she asked, barely cognizant of anything other than the pressure he was building between her thighs.

“Say my name,” he repeated, his voice low and authoritative. “When you cum on my fingers, say my name.”

“Fuck,” Sakura cried, his voice pushing her over the edge.

“That’s it. Just like that, Sakura” he murmured, his fingers thrusting faster.

“Kakashi—oh fuck—cumming—yesssssssssssss” Sakura cried as she fractured apart under his hands.

He worked her gently through the pulsing roll of her climax, and when his fingertips drew a shiver from her sensitive flesh, he stopped and pressed a soft kiss to the nape of her neck.

“Beautiful,” he whispered.

“Uhn,” Sakura grunted weakly as his hands withdrew from her throbbing heat.

_My god_.

He turnedher around and held her against his strong chest as she worked in shuddering breaths of air.

“That was—” she said into his chest. “Incredible.”

“Thank you,” he laughed, rubbing her back. “Can you stand?”

“Yeah,” Sakura said, testing out her weak knees. “I’m okay.”

“Good,” he answered, pulling back to look at her face. He popped two finger inside his mouth and quickly sucked off her juices, as if it was frosting from a cake.

Sakura rested slightly back against the door and watched him with awe.

And then he leaned toward her and pressed a kiss to her mouth and she could taste herself on his lips and she moaned in the back of her throat. His hands were on her again. And she didn’t think she could cum again so soon, but she would love to give him pleasure. And then he was tugging at her skirt.

And Sakura noticed he was tugging it down, not up. He pulled back and straightened the V neck of her dress with a critical eye.

“What are you doing?” she asked.

“Helping you clean up,” he answered simply.

“But don’t you need to—”

He raised an eyebrow. “To?”

“Cum,” she said, blushing ridiculously despite the intimacy of what they’d just done.

He looked at her like she was crazy. “I’ll be okay,” he dismissed her concern, brushing the hair off her shoulders.

That needy, self-conscious beast was stirring inside her, and Sakura reached to tuck her fingers under the top of his belt. “We don’t have to do it. I can use my hands. Or my mouth,” she said shyly.

Quickly, he grabbed her wrists, and pulled her hands away. “Sakura, listen,” he said.

_Oh here it comes_ , she thought, bracing herself for rejection.

“I am a grown man. I can very well handle it when a sexual encounter isn’t all about my needs.”

Sakura was stunned.

“And besides,” he held her hands gently in his. “Making a pretty girl cum on Christmas Eve? I couldn’t have asked for a better present.”

Sakura knew instinctively that he was acting from a place of compassion. If they took it all the way, she’d probably tell herself bad things about her character in the morning. But this way she could treat herself more gently.

And yet, she still worried her lip.

“Well, what if I wanted to make you cum?” she asked.

“Then I’d say we better go on a date first.”

Sakura felt hope bloom in her chest. Was she crazy or did he want this to be more than just a hook up?

“Um, I have this wedding tomorrow, but my plus one canceled. You could come with me, I mean if you’re not working. Or we could do something else. I know that it’s really sudden—”

He captured her lips again in a kiss, sweet and soft, and then pulled away. “Okay.”

“Really?”

“I’d love to come.”

Sakura processed that. Her ex had always whined and tried to get out of it when it had anything to do with her friends. “Are you sure?”

He tucked a wayward strand of hair behind her ear. “I’d like nothing better. Now come on, my breaks almost over.”

He took her by the hand and led her back out of the office and through the kitchen. At the end of the hallway she tugged on his grip, and he stopped to look back at her.

Self-doubt crept in once again. “Um, are you really sure? About tomorrow. We barely know each other and I know that’s a big ask—”

He smiled and used his grip on her hand to draw her close. He leaned down kissed her cheek before his lips found the shell of her ear. “My name is Kakashi, I own this bar, I read erotic poetry, I’m going to be your date tomorrow. And I just made you cum. Twice,” he whispered darkly.

Her heart thumped loudly in her chest. “Well when you put it like that—”

He smiled and stepped back, grabbing her hand again and leading her to their previous spot at the bar. Her drink had been cleared away and the crowd had thinned out significantly. Sakura caught Ino giving her a quizzical look from where she stood waiting impatiently by the door, holding Sakura’s coat and bag.

Kakashi grabbed a pen and wrote something on a napkin before sliding it to her. “Text me the details and the dress code,” he said simply.

Sakura took the napkin and folded it in her hands.

“All right.”

“All right,” he said and stepped closer. “One last thing.”

“Yeah?” Sakura responded, very aware of the gawking attention of her friends.

His hands settled on her waist and he smiled at her nervousness. “Look up.”

She did, and that’s when she saw it. A bunch of mistletoe hung right over the spot where she had been sitting.

“Was that always there—"she started, but then forgot the question as he cupped her cheek and brought his lips to hers in a soft, lingering kiss that had her toes curling once again. He pulled back and let her go. “Merry Christmas Sakura,” he said softly.

“Merry Christmas Kakashi,” she breathed.

As she stepped out into the cold night, a heat in her chest was burning bright. Ino and Tenten immediately started in with questions, but Hinata just gave her a knowing look as a dazed and happy Sakura led them toward the subway station.

The lights of the city twinkled for her as she passed. She was suddenly very much looking forward to Christmas again.

 

* * *

 

Thank you for reading, and thank you to [@raizagabriel](http://raizagabriel.tumblr.com/) on Tumblr for the beautiful, smutty fanart. Go follow her!

 


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